“I remember you,” I admit. “Of course I remember you.” His expression stills. “You do?” I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Jamie. Come on. You were on your way to the NHL. You were one of the popular kids. All the girls swooned over you. You were gorgeous, even back then—” His eyebrow goes up, and there’s that look again. Teasing, focused, and determined. “You think I’m gorgeous?” Sparks dance up my throat, and I swallow. I’m blushing. “Uh,” I say stupidly. The corner of his mouth twitches. “You said even back then. That means you thought I was gorgeous then, and you think I’m gorgeous now.” My
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